Ginger's Adventures 1: Ginger's Origins(REWRITE)
by Ginger the Barn Owl
Summary: Young Barn Owl Ginger lives in a spruce tree with her parents and younger brother, Felix. Ever since her sibling entered the picture, she has grown more and more tired of his shenanigans, eventually snapping and lashing out at her own father. Realizing the danger she now poses to her family, how will she keep them safe...from herself?(ORIGINAL VERSION STILL UP, SOON TO BE DELETED.)
1. Prologue

_"Look at that," the rusty-colored Barn Owl said to his mate. "We did that. Isn't it magnificent?"_

_"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she agreed._

_There, in the couple's nest, sat their very first egg. Its milky white shell was almost perfectly round, and it glimmered like a pearl in the soft light of the waning crescent moon._

_"And just imagine," the broody marveled. "Any day now there's going to be an owlet coming out of there."_

_That was when a cracking noise fell upon their ears. To every other creature in the forest, it was inaudible, but to Ethan and Nutmeg Wingren, it rang out like a gunshot. The two parents went silent, and Nutmeg peered down more closely at it, her teal eyes narrowing at the white shell._

_There, running against the white on the surface of it, was a tiny black seam._

_"...Or any second, it looks like," Ethan pointed out. His amber eyes widened, and he entered a panic._

_"I-I don't know if I'm ready," he admitted. "What it something goes wrong? What if it's coming out too early?"_

_"A day ahead of schedule usually isn't a problem, dear," his mate reassured him. "Thirty-two nights is the average, not the absolute. You know that family of Barred Owls I'm acquainted with?"_

_"Yeah? The Lyrells, right?"_

_"Well, I'll have you know, Mrs. Lyrell's second egg ended up hatching THREE days before anyone expected," she explained. "And that owlet has absolutely nothing wrong with it. I should know; I've seen him quite a few times."_

_"Well...I guess you'd know, then."_

_"Enough talk, now, Ethan, we'll miss it!"_

_He nodded, and the two Barn Owls watched intently as the hairline crack in the surface of the egg, slowly but surely, began to grow._

_It seemed to take forever, but eventually, that tiny crack went from half an inch to two inches, and an egg tooth pecked its way into the open for them to see. And they stared at that egg tooth like it was a priceless gem._

_And to them, it was._

_Finally, after an eternity, the top of the eggshell began to split away from the larger bottom, and the baby inside managed to push it all the way off. The egg fell forward in the down-lined nest, and out of the shell plopped out a tiny, wet pink blob._

_This was their chick, and now it, rather than the egg itself, was the most beautiful thing its parents had ever laid eyes upon._

_"Look at that...!" Ethan rasped, all of his former concerns having melted away like ice in the spring. "...She's beautiful!"_

_It was a female, they could tell. No other creature would have even identified it as a bird at all, but her parents knew right then and there that they were looking at a beautiful little girl hatchling. In her jubilation, Nutmeg spread her wings and emitted a long piercing Barn Owl shree of pure joy._

_"...Don't we still have to name her?" Ethan realized._

_"Oh, you're right. We've been so caught up in planning that we haven't really sat down to discuss that, have we?"_

_"Hmm..." the buff pondered. "...Haven't you said before that it's been a tradition in your family to name a girl chick after a spice of some sort?"_

_"Also correct. That's been going on for generations...So said my grandmother Rosemary said."_

_"And what was your mother's name?"_

_"It was Ca-"_

_"Wait, wait, hold on, lemme guess..." he interrupted, a sly grin spreading across his beak. __"Was it...Carda-Mom?"_

_"Oh, you!"_

_They both chortled at the pun._

_"Well...Actually you were close. It was Caraway."_

_"Oh. That is close. So...What about her?"_

_"Why not something like 'Ginger?' I like that. Don't you?"_

_"'Ginger,' huh?"_

_He looked down at the little hatchling; her eyes had yet to open all the way still, but she was already trying to attack some sort of bug in the nest like the cunning hunter she would someday grow up to be. She was a bundle of energy, he could tell already._

_"If you ask me," he replied. "I think it's absolutely perfect."_

_"I figured you'd think so."_

_"Yes..." he confirmed again, looking down at his newly hatched daughter._

_"Perfect...Just like her."_


	2. Chapter 1: Meat on Bones

"And that's basically how it went," Nutmeg finished. "Nothing too panicky."

But the fuzzy owlet couldn't contain her excitement. She'd heard this same story a dozen times before, yet she still hadn't grown the least bit tired of it.

"_Yaaaaay, _I love it!" she chirped, hopping up and down on her little legs and happily flapping her stubby, downy wings. "It's my favorite story!"

"It's my favorite, too, dear. Why, it's been so long since then, but I still remember it all like it was just yesterday."

A curious light suddenly flashed in young Ginger's large, azure eyes, and she stopped her jumping and sat down, staring intently up at her mother.

"Got any new ones?"

She'd been out of the egg for five years, and in that time, Nutmeg had told her nearly every story she could think of for her, from little events that the owlet's then infantile brain was too young to remember, to stories from her own owlet years back in her old family hollow.

Every story...except one.

"Well..." Nutmeg began, deciding that now may be the time to do it. "There is one story I have yet to tell you...But I've always thought it might scare you, so I decided not to."

"I won't be scared, Momma!" she promised. "I'm a big owlet now! I wanna hear it! I promise I won't be scared!"

"Are you SURE you can handle it?"

"I can handle anything!" she answered, her fuzzy white chest puffed out confidently.

"Well...Alright."

So she began, her daughter's lively gaze flashing even brighter.

"It was when you were only two, too far back for you to remember."

"Like when I picked all the feathers out of the nest and threw them on the floor?"

"Oh, yes, that. That actually happened BEFORE this, you know? But anyways, it was drawing near the end of winter. And it was very bad winter that year; food was very scarce and the weather was very wet and cold...Not good for anyone's health. Well, the weather was finally starting to warm up when you suddenly fell ill...Very ill."

"I got sick?"

"Extremely so."

"With what?"

"The worst of the worst: Alba Pox. It's something only we Barn Owls can catch, hence its name. And in your case, with you being so young, it was horrible."

"What 's it like?" she asked curiously, unaware of how severe it had really been.

"You had it for two weeks; burning fever day in and day out, oozing red sores all over you, yarping liquid every two hours or less..."

She seemed to cringe as the cursed images that'd long since embedded themselves deep within her brain resurfaced.

"...It was horrible. And all the while, your father and I worked day and night to keep you stable, each of us having the tiny hope that you would somehow pull through."

"And I did, right?"

"Well, if you hadn't you wouldn't be sitting here right now!" she exclaimed, a smile finally spreading across the mother owl's beak. "I don't suppose you know just how bad Alba Pox really is. So I'll tell you now that most owls that get it don't make it."

"Don't make it to what?"

Oh, dear...

"Meaning, Ginger, that they...Don't live through it."

"You mean...they die?"

"...That's right," Nutmeg sighed.

"But I did make it..." Ginger acknowledged, looking up and down herself, just to make sure. "I guess I'm lucky, huh?"

"More than you'll ever know. And we were so happy when we discovered that those sores were finally starting to fade away...But besides that, there's something else."

"What?"

"Rumor has it that should an owl be lucky enough to fight off the Alba Pox, something happens to that owl's immune system. You see, Ginger, our blood has little...erm...let's just say it has an army of little white cells swimming around in there that fight off sickness. And if those cells go up against the Alba Pox, there's this sort of...change they go through while they fight it. And it makes them stronger. Much stronger. And since they're so strong, from then forth, the body produces those extremely strong cells instead of the weaker ones that it used to, in the case that anything like it ever returns. Well...Since they're strong enough to fend off something as strong and deadly as Alba Pox, they can handle something as mild as a cold or the flu in a snap, before it even has a chance to do anything to the owl."

"So...I can't get sick at all?"

"That's the theory. Alba Pox is deadly, but also very rare, which is why we were so shocked to find that you had it. But since then, I'd say there's some solid evidence. Ever since that day, you haven't come down with anything. Not even the smallest cold, not a cough, not anything. I, for one, believe this to be true."

"Wow..." Ginger marveled. "...That's amazing!"

"And it definitely puts a lot of our worries at ease."

So that was the end of the story, it seemed, and the owlet had seemed much more in awe at her unremembered victory than frightened to think of what might've happened instead. Now that it was all said, Ginger turned away, peering outside the hollow and looking out into the blue-black, star-dotted sky.

"What are you looking at, dear?"

"...When will Daddy be back?" she asked. "I'm hungry..."

"Oh, he shouldn't be too much longer now. It's summertime, so food is easy to come by."

"What are we having?"

"Squirrel tonight. And they're fat this time of year, so he should be able to find a nice, big one."

"Is that him?" the owlet chirped, pointing out towards a figure in the sky with one of her tiny wings. Nutmeg looked in that direction to confirm it.

"Oh, that's him, alright. And it looks like he has something."

A short, sharp screech met their earslits, and they watched as Ethan Wingren approached the entrance to the hollow, soaring through the dimly lit night sky with his catch held firmly in his talons. Upon nearing the old spruce tree that made their home, he extended one foot to grasp the edge of the hollow with his other one still holding the prey, and he flapped forward to slow his flight before finally entering, placing the prized kill on the floor.

"Ladies..." he addressed, humorously bowing and extending a wing. "Dinner is served."

The two other owls stared wide-eyed at the kill; even for the height of summer when the prey was usually nice and full, this one was exceptionally big.

"Wow..." Nutmeg marveled. "This is quite the squirrel...!"

"No joke, eh? Don't know what it was doin' up at this hour, though. Maybe scouring the forest floor for a midnight snack or something, who knows...Whatever. Besides, it's perfect for tonight, and you know why."

His mate nodded. Ginger hadn't said much of anything, she was so amazed by the kill, and she was about ready to dig right into the massive lunch, rip away the pesky furry pelt and tear a good, big chunk right out of the inside of it. But her father cut her off by sticking a wing in between the owlet and the squirrel and gently motioning for her to back away.

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses, half-pint," Ethan urged her. "Tonight, we're tryin' somethin' a little different."

"Huh? What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in a confused manner."

"Listen close. Your mother and I have been talking about it for the past couple of days, and we think that it's time to start eatin' more like a big grownup owl! So tonight, not only will you be getting a bigger share, but it's gonna have the fur and bones in it. How's that sound?"

"Um..."

She was skeptical. She'd never had meat with fur or bones before, much less both at once. That WAS how her parents ate it...But still...

"Not so sure, huh?" her father asked, noticing the dubious glint in her eyes. "Well, I mean, you COULD just eat meat for the rest of your life WITHOUT the bones..."

"Oh, Ethan, please, not this again."

He'd tried the same trick when they'd moved her from bugs to actual meat, and it worked like a charm...but with the side effect of scaring Ginger a bit. The father owl gave Nutmeg a reassuring wink; it'd be fine in the long run...What he was about to say was the good-to-honest truth, anyway.

"Of course, without anything to really grind, your gizzard will get weak and mushy...and stagnant. Oh, and it won't pang when something good happens the way it's supposed to, or be able to warn you of any danger...And if, for some reason, I don't know why, you DID change your mind about eating fur and bones, your gizzard would be too weak to handle it, and it'd all come right back up; no pellet, just...mush. Yuck. Why, you'd have to skin all your meals before you-"

"Okay! I changed my mind!" the owlet exclaimed, not at ALL liking what she was hearing. "Just don't say anything else!"

"Well, if you say so!" Ethan agreed, bending down over the dead squirrel and ripping a piece from the ribs; several pieces of the thin bones came off with the pelt and meat, which would be perfect for this first attempt, and then he let the downy young Ginger take it in her beak.

"Now, what you wanna do," he explained. "is just swallow it whole; don't try to break it up in your mouth, we don't have teeth...Just hold it firmly in your beak, tilt your head back and sort of let it in a bit at a time. Once it gets to the back of your throat, you just go ahead and let it slide the rest of it though down the gullet, then once you can close your beak right, you take a big gulp to get it down in the gizzard and that should do it. Got all that?"

Ginger nodded, unable to give a verbal response with the furry, bony hunk of meat in her beak.

"Alright...Give it a shot."

The downy owlet, small, but determined, rubbed her wings together in preparation, took a breath, then tilted her head back and let the food go down with the aid of gravity. She tried to open her mouth a bit wider so it could fit through more easily, but only succeeded for a split second each time she tried, her prize continuing to go down. Finally, it disappeared from outside view, and she swallowed, letting the squirrel meat go down with her next big gulp. Then it was gone, and Ginger drew in another long breath; all that remained of the chunk was the blood of it smeared across her white feathered face.

"That...um...wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be," she admitted.

Her parents applauded her.

"HA! Nailed it! She nailed it on the first go, didn't she?!"

"Great job! Excellent, dear!"

"Um...Am I gonna have to do this from now on?" Ginger asked them.

They stopped their cheering, then looked at each other for a moment before shrugging.

"Well...Yes. But don't worry; it'll get easier as the days pass," her mother promised her.

"You'll get used to it," Ethan assured. "Hey, besides, the entire thing isn't always gonna be fur and bones. Once you take care of the fur, there's just the bones to worry about, and not every single bite of it is gonna have bones, I promise you! Hey, and if you want you can take it a bit easier with your seconds tonight. Want a smaller piece to getcha finished and full?"

"Full?" the owlet repeated, emitting a satisfied sigh. "I'm already that."


	3. Chapter 2: The Future, in an Eggshell

As Ginger grew older, so strengthened the bond she had with her parents. However, it was an oddity to the couple that she would rather assist them with chores around the nest, such as ridding it of the vermin that so often spawned within the twigs, than play around the nest and let them do all the work themselves, as they'd expected of her. Nonetheless, they weren't about to discourage it; an owlet with a good work ethic was a blessing in disguise, and seeing that there were no other owlets around for her to busy herself with, Ethan and Nutmeg were the only ones she could really be influenced by.

That, however, was about to change.

It was a year after Ginger first tasted meat with the fur and bones still attached. The afternoon sun was dimmed by cloud cover, and out of the three Barn Owls in the nest, only two of them were actually asleep.

Nutmeg, unbeknownst to her family, was in the middle of something grand.

It'd all started with what she thought was the STRANGEST of dreams. She'd become a chicken, for some reason, and was laying perhaps one egg every two seconds, and they'd accumulated so much that they filled the entire coop. Of course, being a dream, it didn't seem odd that the human who'd come to visit her was able to fit all of the dozens and dozens of eggs in his basket at once before ordering that she keep it up.

And that was when she'd woken up, and found out just how much of a COINCIDENCE it was that she have a dream like THAT.

It seemed like she'd unknowingly done most of the work while she was dreaming, and that her actions there had reached into the real world, so it only took one more minute for her to finally finish what she'd started.

When she was done, Nutmeg stood up and looked in the nest beneath her. Oh, boy...After what she and Ethan had been up to during the day just a few nights ago, they should have been expecting this to happen. The good news was that they'd been discussing the matter, anyway, lately...Still, he had to know about this.

Now.

She nudged her mate, hoping not to disturb the owlet curled up against him. Nothing. So, she tried again, a bit harder and along the facial disc. This time, he shifted, and seeing the empty space beside him, acknowledged that Nutmeg was awake.

"Hm?" he mumbled, opening his eyes to the unpleasantly bright sunlight. "What is it...?"

"I need you to look at this," she whispered.

"What? What do I need to-"

He turned his head to the side to see what Nutmeg was pointing down at, and his tired eyes popped right open at the sight of it.

"...Is that a-"

She nodded. Ethan's eyes grew wider, but a smile slowly stretched across his beak. The couple looked each other in the eyes, then down at the egg, and then down at...

Ethan whistled. How was _Ginger_ going to react when she knew about this?

"...Think she'll be jealous?" he asked her.

"No idea. We won't know until..."

"Hm...? What?"

The downy owl shifted in the nest, and her eyes slowly opened. She found herself looking up at her parents, who were, strangely, wide awake, and staring right back down at her. In the middle of the day? Her little owlet brain immediately figured that something was going on.

"What's going on?" she asked them, sitting up in the nest.

Her parents exchanged glances once again, then Nutmeg let out a small huff of a sigh. It'd be better that she know sooner than later.

"We have news," she told her. "BIG news."

"What big news?"

Ethan pointed down into the nest.

"Look."

She tipped her head down to see what her father was motioning towards.

There in the nest sat a milky white orb. An egg. Her future sibling. Ginger's eyes grew wider and wider every passing second.

"So...Your input on this?" Nutmeg asked her.

Her beak, which had been opened into a giant 'O' of surprise, immediately turned up into a goofy grin.

Well. THAT was a good sign.

"This is amazing..." she whispered, her stubby wings squished against her face in awe."

"You're gonna be a big sister," her father told her. "What do you think of that?"

The owlet emitted a somewhat muted, high-pitched squeal of excitement.

"Hey...Speaking of big, would you look at that?"

Ginger cocked her head, not sure what her father meant by 'that'.

"Your wings," he pointed out.

The owlet took a look at her wings, and saw an unfamiliar sight through the down coating them; there were little black...somethings scattered across each wing, just beneath her thin skin. Some of them looked about ready to poke right through to the outside.

Having no idea what this meant, she was fairly alarmed by this.

"Wh-what's this? What's happening?" she begged her father, hoping she wasn't in an danger.

"Pin feathers," he explained. "Once they come through the skin, they'll start to grow, and eventually, they'll look like this."

The Barn Owl spread his own wing, displaying the large, ruddy brown flight feathers the covered it.

"And when they get like this, that's when we'll teach you how to fly like me and your mother."

"TWO things to celebrate, now!" Nutmeg chimed in. "Isn't that something?"

"Wow..."

Ginger marveled at the little black pin feathers dotted across her wings.

"...How long will it be until they're like yours?"

"I'd say another...mmm..." Ethan surmised, doing the math in his head. "Six years? Maybe less?"

"Until then, you, your father and I will be plenty busy with whoever comes out of that egg. Looking forward to it?"

The owlet nodded, still staring at the white orb in the nest, awestruck. Questions flooded her mind. What would it be? A buff? Another leia, like herself? What would he or she look like? Dad? Mom? Both? Neither? Would it look anything like her? Would it ACT anything like her? She would get the answers to these questions eventually, but until then, they were all going to have to pitch in and make sure the egg came along alright.

One thing was for sure: the following month was destined to be a very busy one.


End file.
